in the dirt since history began

The War Formerly Known as The War On Christmas (2029)

“What’s wrong buddy? Looks like we’re gonna have the first white winter since mean ol’ Al Gore fired up his heat ray!”

“I don’t like the sounds of that, ‘Season’s Greetings,’ Falkor. What happened to ‘Happy Holidays?'”

“‘Season’s Greetings’ is all inclusive, Gizzard! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“NO!” Says Gizzard, “I told those guys we shouldn’t surrender the War on Christmas to the Politicalcorrectofascists!”

“Shhhh! Careful what you say there, Gizzard. I hope The Agency wasn’t listenin’ when ya said the C-word!” Says me. “Look, ‘Season’s Greetings’ is better. Everybody observes the seasons! It’s just more inclusive and respectful.”

“You can’t police respect, Falkor! It can’t be legislated.”

“Tell that to President Clinton (44) and the ’09 Congress. Remember? The very first thing they did was pass the ‘There’s No Christ in Xmas’ constitutional amendment. Then they brought the country along by withholding all pork barrel spending ’til 2/3 a the states ratified it,” says me.

“Yes,” says Gizzard. “Alas, brave Montana just couldn’t hold out without their border-fence money— And they were being invaded with illegals! Bless their hearts.”

“Just be cool, Gizzard,” says me. “Knock it off with the ‘Holiday’ thing, ok?”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with ‘holiday!’ Who doesn’t like a day off from work?”

“We should have had this war back in ’09. We shoulda had it good. This time we’ll give them a war: A HOLY WAR!”

“Oh no. Gizzard! The Agency Police are here. … Take it easy on him, guys. … I know you can’t talk with the hood on, Gizzard, but if you can hear me, have a great season! I promise I’ll come find you in the New Year! Whatever it takes. … Keep your spirits up! I hear the gulags are full of spirit this time of year. I’ll miss ya ol’ buddy! … Mr. Agent, where are you taking him? … Ooo! He get’s to go for a helicopter ride?! … Did ya hear that, buddy? YOU GET TO GO FOR A HELICOPTER RIDE! … Hey, Mr. Agent what ya doin now? OOF! Hey, why’d ya hit me with your flashlight for? OOF! Hey, STOP! … OOF!—“

"We have no words to waste on you. When you reach out your vaunted strong hands for our palaces and purpled ease, we will show you what strength is. In roar of shell and shrapnel and in whine of machine-guns will our answer be couched. We will grind you revolutionists down under our heel, and we shall walk upon your faces. The world is ours, we are its lords, and ours it shall remain. As for the host of labor, it has been in the dirt since history began, and I read history aright. And in the dirt it shall remain so long as I and mine and those that come after us have the power. There is the word. It is the king of words—Power. Not God, not Mammon, but Power. Pour it over your tongue till it tingles with it. Power."